


Blue Winter

by Ghostpocky



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Betrayal, Body Horror, Character Death, Developing Friendships, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, F/M, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Being an Asshole, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem - Freeform, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, High Fantasy, Horror, Injury Recovery, Love, Magic, Major Character Injury, Oblivious Felix Hugo Fraldarius, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, POV Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostpocky/pseuds/Ghostpocky
Summary: Dimitri's attempted assassination raises complex feelings within Byleth as she helps him heal. Felix, acting king of Faerghus, tries to unravel the details of the attack and stumbles into a deeper, more ancient mystery. Claude is delving into the secrets of Brigid when he becomes an unwitting accomplice in a heist. Something dark is churning in the depths of Fodland that will leave the landscape and it's inhabitants changed forever. (This will be a long fic featuring romance, high-concept fantasy, and elements of horror. Updates twice a week. Thank you so much for your support!)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lysithea von Ordelia, Petra Macneary/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. The Blood of the Lion

**Author's Note:**

> ***Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for checking out my writing. This is the first chapter of a long fanfiction set after the Blue Lion’s route. It will feature romance, high-concept fantasy, and elements of horror. The story will switch between the perspectives of Byleth (female), Dimitri, Felix, Claude, and an unknown assassin. This is rated M for eventual graphic violence, maiming, and major character death. This is my first fic in awhile so please feel free to provide feedback in the comments 😊 ***

**Monastery**

Byleth stood completely still, her back pressed firm against the cold stone of the monastery’s third floor hallway. How long she had been there she couldn’t say. In the times she had allowed her gaze to wonder to the window, she had watched the sun come and go, night’s embrace settling around Fodland. Even the sky denied her comfort during this panic and uncertainty.

  
She was traveling towards former Alliance territory on a pilgrimage when she received the news. Ashe, poor thing, was the one who delivered it. He had rode for two days on horseback just to reach her. His face was pale, his voice shaking from fear and the weariness of a hard travel.

  
“Professor! I-I mean, Archbishop, you must come back to the monastery at once! There was an attack and the king...Dimitri...it , well, doesn’t look good. I can explain more on the way.”

She’ll never forget those words, the merciless dread that they instantly bubbled up deep inside her. It holds her thoughts even now, days later, standing just feet from him.

She hasn’t been permitted to see Dimitri, of course. Even as his long-time friend and advisor a king is still a king. Protected by deep walls of mortar and bureaucracy.

  
“Not protected well enough” she whispered to herself with a sigh. She could feel the sting of tears threatening her. She turned her head up to look at the thick oak door of Manuela’s old office. She had been in this hallway so long she felt she knew every knot and fiber of wood that made up this ridiculous barrier. “Seteth will have a new one commissioned from town...” she said lowly, unable to stand the sight of the thing.

All she wanted was to see him. Just once. Just to see with her own eyes that breath still finds him. That he won’t be ripped away from her like her father was. Byleth honestly could not say what would become of her if the king were to pass. Just thinking of it flooded her with anger and unbearable grief.

In the vague details Ashe was able to give she had learned that Dimitri and Dedue were in a strategy meeting discussing how to best dispose of an Empire-loyal faction that had been causing issues near Fodland’s Throat when a hooded mage appeared from nowhere and attacked the pair. It was unexpected and neither were wearing full protective armor at the time. Dimitri was stabbed in the chest with some type of crystallized energy that is causing a poison-like effect. The standard white magic of Kingdom doctors was doing little to mend the wound so he was rushed here for advanced treatment.

When she asked of Dedue, Ashe could give no insight. Apparently his care is being administered by Seteth only and little is known of his condition.

It’s been almost three days since the incident, and Dimitri’s vitals are still unstable. They were able to stop the hemorrhaging, which is good, but this arcane poison of unknown origin has been wreaking havoc through his body. Flayn has been administering a constant stream of white magic to keep him going, but how long that will work is anyone’s guess. Byleth had arrived at the monastery early this morning and has not left the hallway outside of his sickroom since.

It is merciless, the waiting. For as urgent as the situation is, it has been incredibly silent. There have been health aids who shuffle by to bring various supplies, but not a sound from inside. Dimitri has been unconscious for the entire ordeal so there hasn’t even been a grunt of pain or discomfort to reassure her through the door. Only the faint light of the spells keeping him alive leaked into the hallway, enveloping the area in a pale blue glow.

Friends had been by to check on her throughout the day—Sylvain, Ashe, Mercedes, and even Felix. Felix was the acting king in Dimitri’s stead and is currently leading a manhunt for whoever has done this. Though, based on what she’s heard there are little clues to actually go on. Once Dimitri or Dedue are stable enough to provide more detail, she will be joining Felix on the front lines.

“I will kill them” she said, clenching her fist so hard she could feel her nails digging into the palm of her hand. It felt good. It let her, on some primal level, know that she was still here. Still alive. Still with some control. “I will hang their head from Enbarr’s gates—“

Her ramblings were cut short by the door opening to reveal Flayn, hair disheveled. Blood spatter shone a distractingly deep red on her white apron. She sounded exhausted, but happy as she spoke.

“The king is finally stable! And conscious, even. He woke up as soon as the extraction was complete. There was horrible dark magic used here, and I need to consult my brother at once. Archbishop, will you stay with the king while I do so? You have some white magic training, yes?” She wearily fumbled a vial of blood into her pocket.

“Flayn thank you so much!” Byleth exclaimed in pure joy, throwing herself at the tired girl for a tight hug. Flayn was very taken aback at this hard turn in character, but returned the gesture. Letting go with a nod, she hurried down the hallway towards the stairs, leaving Byleth at the doorway.

  
Byleth walked slowly into the room that she had been denied for so long, feeling the dread return as she seen stacks of bloodied bandages piled in a tub of pink water to the side of the door.

“H...Hey, Byleth...” Dimitri uttered. He was laying in a large bed in the middle of the room, propped up by a mound of pillows. He was drained of color, deep dark circles visible beneath his eye and eyepatch, a thick band of white gauze covering his chest, tinges of red creeping in from the center where the dagger had plunged into him.

“Dimitri!” Byleth exclaimed, hurrying to his side. She wanted to throw herself on him, embrace him, feel his warmth and know through stimulus that her eyes weren’t deceiving her in some sleep-deprived fever dream. She reached out, cupping the side of his face in her hand gently, tears rolling down her cheeks in earnest. He smiled warmly, looking up at her.

“I must have worried you. I’m sorry.” His voice was low, struggling to be. He moved over on the bed carefully and patted the mattress in a welcoming gesture. Byleth sat beside him, holding his right hand in both of hers.

“I-I thought...Dimitri I thought...” she wiped her tears on the sleeve of her uniform. “I thought I would never see you again. You’re my best friend and I —“ she was cut off by a sudden cough from him. He doubled over, resting one hand on his chest and deepening his grip on hers with the other. “Are you okay?” She said softly.  
“I-I’m fine...” he said, straightening out his back slowly, tilting his head up and closing his eye. “Just give me a second...”

He was apparently trying to center himself, finding it uncomfortable to exist in his body after such an ordeal. Byleth couldn’t blame him. She looked down at their hands, still entangled, her thumb making small circles on his skin to let him know she was there.

_I love you,_ She thought. She started to feel very nervous. He was a king—a handsome, competent ruler in the prime of his life. Why would he ever choose her?

  
“Sorry, this damned poison...” he started, repositioning carefully to face her. “Hey, don’t look so serious. It’s just a cough. I’ll be fine.” He smiled, looking into her eyes. “You cried for me. From what I hear, that’s a pretty big deal.”

She could feel herself blushing as she met his gaze. To her surprise, it was warm. For so long, those eyes had held a complex darkness she could only try to understand. When did he change? Or was it she who did, and she’s just seeing him for the first time? “I couldn’t lose you like I lost my father. I don’t know what would become of me without you...” she said sincerely, looking away, suddenly wishing for the protection of that accursed door again.

“Oh?” Dimitri’s face tinged pink, he rubbed the back of his neck slowly. “I...I didn’t know you felt that way. I couldn’t...picture my life without you as well.”

“I love you. I think I always have. I just don’t know if I knew what it was called until it was almost too late.” Byleth was surprised at how forward her statement was, but it was true.

Dimitri looked up at her, his mouth open slightly in surprise. “Byleth...As bloodstained as I am...you deserve so much bet—-“

“I love how dedicated you are to your friends,” Byleth said earnestly, “how much you care about your subjects and the wellbeing of the country. I love that you like dumb jokes and think it’s okay to eat weeds. I love that weird thing you do when hair is in your face, and how you tap your foot when you get impatient. You’re damaged, I know you are. But I’ve watched you grow through it and do your best every day to atone for your mistakes. Dimitri, please, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But don’t sell yourself short.” Her eyes widened; her face hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, you’ve been through so much. Now isn’t the ti—“  
He leaned in slowly and kissed her,his hand tangling itself in the nape of her hair. “I love you too. I have for a long....time” he said, looking at her with a pained smile. “I just...never thought—“ his cough returned, causing him to recoil slightly.

“Dimitri…” Byleth said softly, helping him lay back down. She smiled, stroking the hair from his forehead. “Just don’t die on me, okay?”

“I’ll be fine...I promise.” he said, pulling her down gently to lay with him. Her head rested on his shoulder, her arm draped over his midsection lightly. “Just…stay with me tonight…please.” His voice became soft, his eye struggling to stay open as he turned his head to face her.

“Rest.” She whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  
**Blaiddyd Castel**

Felix sighed in disgust, crossing his arms in impatience. “Seteth, are you almost done? I don’t know why we can’t just go in. Whatever sorcery has been done in here, Dimitri and Dedue surely bared the brunt of it. We’ll be fine.” He stifled back a cough. “And these herbs you’re burning smell awful.”

Seteth concluded his most recent incantation with some quick and precise hand gestures, a white light flashed from between his fingers and dissipated with a low, audible chime. He picked up the bundle of sage and set it in a nearby wooden tub of water. “We can’t be too careful. What’s been done here is ancient magic, older than you or I. I would ask you to brace yourself before walking into this room.” He placed his hand on the doorknob of the strategy room’s entrance and turned to Felix, his expression stern. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve seen plenty of blood before. We just went through an entire war, remember? I don’t think there’s a battlefield I haven’t seen at this point” even as he said it, Felix could feel a sense of unease crawling into him. Was it Seteth’s weird ritual? No...it was something else. Something hanging in the air, creeping through the halls of this place, even now. An invisible threat that made his muscles squirm in their casings. He was never one to abandon a mission, but if he had the choice, he would have walked away here.

Seteth opened the door and the two men stepped inside. The room was disheveled, but there was hardly any blood. Instead, there were shards of purple and blue crystal everywhere—on the ground and desk but also suspended before them, floating in place, turning slowly in tandem. In the center was Dedue, fully crystallized, an expression of shock frozen across his amethyst face. Felix’s eyes widened.

“What the hell is this, Seteth? Is he alive?” He reached out a hand to touch Dedue’s arm and was stopped by Seteth grabbing his wrist.

“I’m not sure, but we need to take astute precaution in assessing this situation. We have no idea how this happened or what magic residue might still linger in this accursed place.” He bent down and opened the leather bag he brought with him from the monastery. From what Felix could surmise, it had numerous alchemy ingredients and medical equipment.

“...Does Dimitri know about this?” Felix said quietly, unable to take his eyes off of the remnants of his friend. “Is he—“

“From what we can tell the king was stabbed with a weapon known as Orion’s Claw. It’s an extremely dangerous relic the church has thought destroyed for many years. It causes a type of magical poisoning that is exceptionally fast-acting and difficult to treat. If he was stabbed before this happened, I doubt he remembers anything at all. It will be hard news to break to him” Seteth rose, a new concoction of ingredients in hand. “We have a lot of work to do.”


	2. A Ghostly Eye

_For once the night was too short,_ Dimitri thought to himself, his lone blue eye lulling open to meet the morning sun. It had been so long—years, perhaps, since he had a solid afternoon’s rest. He begrudged the fact that he had to almost die to achieve it.

He freed a hand from under the thick blanket and held it to his chest, feeling the dampness of the bandages beneath his touch. It didn’t hurt much anymore, no doubt thanks to Flayn’s dauntless efforts to extract whatever the cursed thing was that rode into his body on that dagger. He made a mental note to discuss the details of his condition with her later today.

 _Speak with Flayn, check on Dedue—wherever he may be—and relieve Felix as my Proxy. What a mess._ He sighed, applying light pressure to the side of his forehead in attempts to relieve his headache. His brow furrowed in disgust as he felt the coat of grime that streaked his hair. Looking down at himself he could see that his skin was also stained with various patches of dried blood, sweat causing his arms to glisten in the faint light of the window at his bedside.

“I should probably wash up before I—” His mutterings were interrupted by a low groan to his right. It was the professor, nestled deep within the comforter beside him, her long emerald locks falling in waves over her shoulders.

 _What in the Goddess’s name? S-she’s here?_ Dimitri thought hard about the events that unfolded since he returned to the monastery . It was mostly a blur to him, just faint memories of dizziness and pain as various bishops imbued him with white magic.

 _Has her hair always been that long?_ He pondered, fighting the urge to run his fingers through it. He had always admired her from afar, never daring to make a pass at someone so pure. Why would he, a ravenous fiend, ever be deserving of one so beautiful? So genuine and kind? No, he could never sully her with the muck of his past.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious about the state of his appearance and resolved to rectify it at once.

_She can’t see me like this._

He slowly crawled out of bed, trying carefully not to wake her. Standing proved more uncomfortable than he anticipated, mostly due to some unforeseen muscle weakness, but he made his way to the sink in the corner of the room with a little added effort. He inserted the wooden stopper into the drain and filled the porcelain bowl with water. Removing his eyepatch, he looked up at himself in the mirror.

His right eye was a light grey, purple flecks of light swirling in the iris. He was totally blind on that side and had been for at least six years. It was easier to keep it covered then deal with the stares and speculation exposing this oddity to the world would bring. Even Dimitri himself didn’t fully understand what exactly the spell was that blinded him. Moreover, the identity of the caster was a total mystery. It had been during his five years living in the Goddess Tower after the battle at the monastery. He had always assumed it was either someone looking to avenge their fallen brethren or a scavenger seeking to distract him while they made away with whatever food or supplies they could carry from the academy’s ruins.

_Those years…so ridiculous…what was I doing?_

Dimitri looked down at his hands, his mind browsing a catalog of all the faces he watched die, all the potential and light he had snuffed from the world during that accursed era of his life. He abhorred his actions, his selfishness. He could have been searching for his friends—searching for _her_ all that time. Instead, he chose a path of self-indulgent bloodshed in the name of his family’s ghosts. How could he ever think to hold her with such hands?

He sighed and grabbed a washrag from a stack to his left and wet it in the warm water of the sink. He lathered some soap in the cloth and began the daunting task of scrubbing the grime from his hair, wincing slightly as the wound in his chest began to throb with his increased movement.

After about 30 minutes of vigorous rinsing and bandage changes, he finally looked more himself, though his dripping wet hair caused him to shudder slightly in the drafty atmosphere of the monastery. Growing up in Fhirdiad he was accustomed to the chill of winter, however, there were usually several layers of clothing between himself and the winds of the north.

“Where…?” he mused aloud, wondering where his armor had been stored. He felt oddly exposed wearing only bandages and pants.

Several minutes of rummaging around the room proved fruitless, the constant bending over exacerbating his pounding head. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, fumbling with the lid to a vulnary, hoping it would help take the edge off his migraine.

“Dimitri…” The sleepy voice behind him cooed, startling him. The vulnary slipped from his hands, falling to the ground in a cascade of fragile glass.

“P-Professor” he said nervously without turning to face her. Not only are the circumstances of her being here a total mystery to him, but his right eye remains uncovered. The last thing he wanted was to worry her further.

“Byleth” she corrected him with a chuckle. He could feel the mattress shifting with her movements and suddenly she was there beside him, her face adorned with a bright smile. “You look so much better today, I’m so relieved “ She said, cupping his chin with her hand, forcing him to look at her. “You feel so col—” she stopped abruptly, staring wordlessly at the right side of his face.

Dimitri didn’t know what to do or say. His cheeks flushed from her touch—her hands, so soft and warm. He never thought they would caress him. There was a nervous stirring deep within his chest that threatened the moment. He cleared his throat, doing his best to steel himself.

 _She’s surely disgusted._ He thought. He pivoted his eyes downward, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

“I-I’m sorry. It’s just so…beautiful. I was always under the impression that your eye was removed.” she started, examining him closer. “What is this magic…?” she asked, squinting up at him, tugging the bottom of his right eyelid down slightly to get a better look.

He froze, his heart racing. Her face was so close to his, he could feel her steady breathing against his lips. He desperately wanted to change the subject, though, feeling deeply uncomfortable. He settled for an over-reaction to turn her attention.

“U-Ugh…” he moaned, turning his head down to hold it in his hand. He felt bad about this small bit of acting, but he preferred pity to vulnerability. Besides, he really did have a monstrous headache.

“Dimitri?” Byleth asked lowly, rubbing his shoulder. She turned to look at the shattered vulnary on the floor. “You must have a headache. I know you have a history of them. Here, let me help you” her features were gentle as she placed one hand on either side of his head, an ivory light emanating from her palms. “It won’t take it completely away, but you should feel a little better.”

He couldn’t help but let out a pleasurable sigh as he felt the faith magic relieve the pressure in his head. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the pleasant buzz of healing vibrate within him.

“I’ve never had a talent for faith or reason. There is still much you could teach me prof—” he paused for a moment before correcting himself, “Byleth”.

She lowered her hands, smiling at him. As he looked down at her he couldn’t help but notice how petite she was. He had never seen her in civilian clothes and here, wearing only a cotton undershirt and the skirt of her uniform, she looked exceptionally fragile. He contemplated how many times those small hands had saved him over the years and wondered how such power could reside within her. He caught a hint of sadness in her eyes as she turned her gaze to the window where a thick blanket of snow was forming over the monastery.

“How much do you remember of the last few days?” She asked.

Dimitri’s lips pursed as he thought again of the assassination attempt and his journey to the monastery. “Not much. I remember a hooded figure attacking me. Dedue fighting with them. I struggled to reach my lance, though, I passed out before I ever could. The ride here is foggy at best. Ashe was with me, but I couldn’t say if anyone else of note joined us. Once I got here, he and Sylvain carted me into this room. I lost consciousness completely after that.”

“And of last night?” she pressed. He could feel there was subtext to the question, and tried again to recall the evening’s events, thinking clearer now that he was free of the migraine.

“I had awoken to Flayn dressing my wound. It’s hazy, but I remember you rushing in. I was surprised that you had been crying. “ He dared a glace over at her and met her large green eyes for a second, quickly looking away to the window again, feeling the flush in his cheeks return. “You said you liked how I eat weeds” he said quickly, feeling a fluttering in his chest as he remembered their exchange.

 _How could I forget such a blatant declaration of love?_ He thought, cursing himself and the annoyance of circumstance. More importantly, though, how could he accept it? She would be so much better suited to someone like Dedue or even Sylvain—some stable, gentlemanly man who has no demons to burden her with.

He had no doubt that he wanted her, though. In those moments when he found himself divested of the ghosts of his past his mind would always circle back to her face, her hair, the smell of honeysuckle that always filled her classroom. She is a constant in his life, a cornerstone of not who he is but who he wanted to become.

He felt both of her hands take his right gently. “You do remember” she said with a chuckle, her touch pulling him back from his tightening spiral.

“Byleth…” he started, turning to face her. “I’m so sorry that I had worried you. I never want to be the cause of your distress, but I fear that that’s all I ever am…” he said lowly, swallowing the beginning of a lump in his throat as he continued. “I would love nothing more than to take you as my beloved. You’re so lovely and reliable. All who surround you become better just because you’re in their lives. But—"

“Dimitri…” she answered softly, reaching a hand up to brush still-damp hair from his eyes. “I know what you’re going to say and I won’t hear any of it. You’re not a burden to me.” She smiled up at him and he could no longer fight emotion as tears clouded his vision, his heart becoming lighter as she went on. “I want to be with you. Whatever challenges we face moving forward we will face them together.” She stood, careful to avoid the broken glass at their feet. “And whatever darkness is starting here—whomever hurt you, I will kill them myself.”

Dimitri wiped his eyes. He knew too well the look that Byleth wore. The stern yearning for revenge on someone they may never have the satisfaction of finding. It was his look for years as he piled bodies as tribute to the dead. He stood as well, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m still here” he reminded her, absentmindedly stroking the length of her hair, taking in the floral scent it wafted up at him. “In your words we face our hardships together. I will…do my best to share my demons with you if you promise me that you will not succumb to them yourself.” His eyes softened as she nodded. He leaned over her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

“Have you ever seen the snows of Fhirdiad?” He asked her after a few moments of silent embrace.

“I have not.” She answered. “I would love to see your childhood home properly. We only marched through during the war. I’ve never even been to the castle.”

He pulled back, looking down at her, his face alight. The prospect of showing Byleth his home was so exciting to him, though he couldn’t pinpoint why that was. Perhaps it was his weariness of this sickroom, or maybe because he finally allowed himself to muse that it could be her home as well someday, if she would have him.

“I have to travel back as soon as possible to check on Dedue and relieve Felix as acting king” he told her, again scanning the room for the rest of his clothes. “I would like you to accompany me, if you would find it agreeable.”

She nodded earnestly, jaunting across the room. She quickly slipped into her armor, her flowing green hair tied in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, it’s length reaching down to her mid-back. She turned to him, the Sword of the Creator tucked below her right arm as she fumbled with her shoes. “I’m ready when you are.” She said, glancing at him with adventure in her eyes.

He was, of course, far from prepared—still unable to find his own belongings amidst the various nooks and crannies of this accursed room.

“Um, just a second” he said, pulling the top of his hair into a sloppy half-ponytail. He returned to the sink to grab his eyepatch, looking into the mirror to apply it correctly.

 _The road home will feel much shorter with her._ He thought, smiling.


	3. The Fifth Saint

**Castle Blaiddyd**

Lysithea shuddered, the frigid air of Northern Faerghus antagonizing her through the walls of the carriage. She had been living in Fhirdiad for almost two years since the war ended, Dimitri offering her the position of his kingdom’s head mage. The relationship was mutually beneficial—he needed a competent replacement for Cornelia, and she needed to secure support for her parents in the ever likely circumstance that she would succumb to her condition. The king was happy to oblige, spouting some gallant nonsense about the vacancy needing a “noble purpose” after the Duscur Tragedy.

What happened to his family was indeed a saga all its own, but Lysithea had no vested interest in the fallout of the Blaiddyds. Still, her heart did drop at the news of the attack, not wishing any harm on her friends or the potential threat to the newfound stability house Ordelia enjoys. She had been traveling for two days to meet Dimitri’s proxy at the castle under the request of Seteth who reported the use of egregious dark magic that he needs her assistance in dispelling from the area.

His highness, ever cautious, had set guidelines in place regarding intelligence sharing in the event of an immediate threat and she would not be fully briefed until she arrived on-scene.

“I don’t even know who the acting king is!” She complained to Lawrence, her family’s personal coachman. She unwrapped a sugar candy and popped it into her mouth. “Head mage of Fhirdiad and still I’m treated like a child. No one tells me anything! How am I supposed to help when I’m kept in the dark all the time?” Her words fumbled around the large caramel as she chewed, her gloved hands rubbing together for warmth against the ever-present chill.

“Ms. Ordelia, I assure you no one sees you as a child” Lawrence called back to her. “The Blaiddyds had always been a family who deals their business in the shade. I am sure that the new king has precedent for his policies. You will be able to ask them yourself soon enough”.

The wagon came to a stop as Lysithea turned her attention to her passenger window. A man in a large blue jacket adorned with golden clasps approached them, a fresh dusting of snow beginning to settle in the spaces between the furs of his oversized hood.

 _I guess this is my escort inside._ Lysithea thought as she stood to a bend, gathering her bags from beneath her coach seat. She had amassed quite a collection of luggage while packing for this trip—clothes, arcane supplies, and even battle gear incase things got hairy. She was not inclined to be caught off guard and, given the circumstances, she wagered it best to be prepared for anything.

She tucked the straps of her two large totes into the creases of her elbows, doing her best to straighten out in the small interior of the space. “Ugh, so heavy!” she complained, using the inside of the carriage door as support while she attempted to shift the weight comfortably.

Suddenly, the door opened from the outside, sending Lysithea and her bags tumbling out of the wagon and into the evening air.

“Ah!” She screamed instinctively; her eyes closed as she attempted to brace herself for the fall. She winced, her torso connecting not with the ground, but with a person.

“Ugh, what the hell, Lysithea?!” A man’s voice groaned from beneath her. Her eyes widened, recognizing the stranger at once as Felix Fraldarius, an old friend and classmate from her time at the Officer’s Academy. He lay face-up in the snow staring at her, his brow creased.

“FELIX?!” She yelped, her cheeks flushed. “You’re Dimitri’s Regent?!” She hadn’t seen him since Edelgard’s defeat two years ago. He had bulked up a bit during that time, his chest broader, his arms built of well-defined muscles below the thickness of his clothing. His face was much the same, a hard-set jaw and vermillion eyes in a perpetual state of aggravation.

“Not so loud!” He hissed, his eyes narrowing. “If our opponents have spies here we best not feed them information.” He shifted beneath her, helping her off him, rubbing the back of his head as he stood.

Lysithea brushed the snow from the front of her jacket, whispering “Well, maybe next time send me a notice.” She shot him a look of disapproval before bending over to pick up her luggage. His arm jutted out quickly, grabbing her bags with little effort. He started towards the gates, raising the hood of his jacket up as he walked.

“Let’s go, it’s freezing out here.” He called without turning back to face her. She attempted to jog up to him but found it difficult with so much accumulation. She settled for a brisk walk, trailing behind him, hugging herself in the cold.

“I thought you would be used to this!” she shouted. Felix silently nodded to a guard on his right who waved his hand towards the sky, signaling for the pair to be granted entry.

Lysithea looked up at the castle as the gates opened. She had only been here once, spending most of her time at the Fhirdiad academy of magic. The sight still impressed her—a vast stone structure, standing seven floors high and of dark grey construction, appearing nearly black in the gloom of winter. Windows of various sizes shone bright light into the burgeoning darkness as night began to set in.

“It usually doesn’t bother me” Felix said as she finally caught up with him, huffing misty breaths into the air. He looked at her briefly and she thought, if only for a moment, that a smile played at the corner of his lips. “But you _did_ leave me waiting outside for quite awhile.”

Lysithea’s features toughened, a protest rising in her throat when she was cut off.

“This is us” Felix said, tilting his head towards a large oak entryway to their right. The door opened for them as they arrived, a nameless knight taking her bags and carrying them into a nearby room. Felix removed his coat and hung it on a rack in the foyer, adjusting the black turtleneck he wore beneath. He pulled his hair from a loose bun, rubbing his fingers against his scalp, flakes of snow melting between the strands.

 _He’s so…handsome…has he always been?_ Lysithea blinked, shaking her head slightly, realizing her gaze had settled for far too long. She took off her own coat and swatted at the snow clinging to the bottom of her white dress.

“Is there any word on Dimitri? And what’s with this black magic Seteth mentioned in his summons?” She asked as Felix lead her up a flight of stairs.

“Flayn sent news that Dimitri is going to be fine, all things considered. He had a close call, though. Stabbed right in the chest.” He sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “What a fool, letting his guard down like that. Why he walks around here without a weapon is a mystery to me.”

Lysithea’s eyes wandered to the twin swords around his waist as they walked, the metal clanging softly against his thigh. She wanted to tell him that, current circumstances aside, he has always been a little _too_ wary. Even during their time at the academy, he would always be guarded, never truly trusting anyone, not even his childhood friends. There were times when his callousness proved useful—like when he correctly surmised that the Death Knight’s identity was Jeritza—but his relationships suffered greatly for any scarce benefit.

They walked a few moments in silence, coming to a door with a sword burned into its wooden face. Felix stopped and turned to her, grasping the handle. He cleared his throat, his brow furrowed as he searched for the right words.

“There is a… situation…” he began, his rusty eyes contemplative. “Seteth will be able to explain it better than I can.” As he spoke, she began to feel a deep dread settling over her, an invisible tingle playing at the nape of her neck. “Just stay by me, okay?”

“I can handle myself, Felix.” She said with less conviction in her voice than she hoped. He wordlessly opened the door, guiding her inside.

The room was large, it’s stone walls lined with tall bookcases and adorned with weapon racks. She recognized paintings of Dimitri’s father in the front of the room, his cold blue eyes staring lifeless from the canvas. She had been in this space once before, on her initial journey to Fhirdiad. Dimitri had given her a small tour in the event that she needed to navigate the castle without him someday. The place was in a much better state then—the struggle between assailant and victims apparently knocked over documents, armor, and furniture as it ensued.

What Lysithea did not understand, however, were the crystals that distributed themselves through the air around the chamber, suspended several feet above the oak flooring. The stones alternated between deep purple and sea blue, lazily twirling in tandem. In the center of the space was Dedue, fully incased in the same substance, his silhouette glistening in the light of candles scattered about.

She put her hand to her mouth as she followed Felix to a table in the corner of the room, unable to stray her gaze from the frozen remains of her friend. “…what’s going on?” she asked him, her voice almost a whisper. The anxiety she started to feel in the hallway dug its heels in, her stomach churning.

Seteth looked up at them from his seat at the table, smiling brightly. “Hello Lysithea. I hope that your travel was an agreeable one.”

She felt herself nod slowly, her consciousness disassociating as the disquiet within her grew. She began tapping her foot nervously. She looked up at Felix who was rubbing his arm, his usual stern expression melted into trepidation as he spoke. “What’s our next move?”

Seteth sighed, rising from his chair to face the two of them. “My next move is to tell you everything. It is crucial that we are on the same page moving forward. I had mentioned to your earlier that the weapon used here was known as Orion’s claw.”

She looked at Felix who nodded. “I remember.”

Seteth walked over to Dedue, speaking to them as he navigated through the crystals. “What I am about to tell you is in confidence. You must not disclose word of it to anyone outside of those directly involved with this incident.” He stood at Dedue’s side, gesturing for them to join him.

“We appreciate your position, just tell us what’s happening.” Felix snipped at him, making his way to the center of the room.

As she followed him Lysithea noticed Felix’s hands shaking. He dug them into the pockets of his pants, presumably in attempts to steel himself.

“Seteth…this magic…it feeds off emotion, correct?” She asked as she approached them.

Seteth nodded. “That is part of it, yes.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After a moment he began, “You have learned of the four saints: Cethleann, Cichol, Macuil, and Indech. They all bore unique specialties that they used in service of the Goddess over one thousand years ago. Cethleann’s healing, Cichol’s authority—the war against Nemesis and history as we know it would not have unfolded in our favor without the power they wielded in Seiros’s name.”

“What do they have to do with this?” Felix huffed as he looked at the ground, nudging a piece of crystal across the floor with the tip of his boot.

“There was a fifth saint, a child of Seiros herself and a descendent of the Goddess. He had the power to know the emotions of others, to reverberate their worst fears back to them and make them vulnerable. He was skilled in illusion magic which complemented his natural abilities to toy with the enemy. He fed on their fear before delivering the final blow, the sentiments and anxieties of one victim fueling the death of the next. He was _evil_.” Seteth shook his head, his brow downturned in budding sadness. “He was killed by Cichol who saw him slowly descending into madness, more and more fear needing harnessed to function, more blood needing shed to satiate his thirst. His name was Orion, the saint of the hunt.”

Lysithea brought her hand to her chin, her brow furrowed. “The church kept this information from their records because such violence would not reflect well on their message of peace, I take it?”

“And the weapon you mentioned—Orion’s claw—is a lost hero relic belonging to this saint that feeds on fear?” Felix asked, abandoning the crystal and looking up at him.

“That is precisely correct…” Seteth paused, his gaze wandering to Dedue. “It is imbued with poison to insure the victim has time to contemplate their death before succumbing to their injuries. The king is very lucky to have made it.”

“And the crystals?” Lysithea glanced around the room as the countless gems twisted in place. “…and Dedue?”

“The relic’s poison can crystalize under certain circumstances, though, existing information is understandably scarce. The unease, which I’m sure you’ve noticed, seems to be caused by a frequency emanating from them. It’s just another tactic to create as uncomfortable of an atmosphere as possible.” He sighed, resting a hand on Dedue’s amethyst frame. “As far as your friend, I am unsure. Whomever our enemy is has been able to amplify the effects of the relic to unseen proportions. He is alive, but I am at a loss for how to release him. We will need more time, more research. For now, we can set our sights on dispelling the black magic that resides here. The Archbishop will be arriving with the King in about a day’s time.”

Felix crossed his arms, looking up at Dedue. She could not tell if the sorrow on his face was a reaction to this uncovered secret or budding discomfort over Dimitri’s return. Through her time at the monastery Lysithea had learned to distrust the Church, favoring her personal comrades and their experiences over the false history their studies often fabricated.

“Then for now let’s do what we can.” She said to the pair. _It’s going to be a long night_.


End file.
